


Caught

by gracemurphy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Demon Dean, Gen, Hurt Dean, Season/Series 10
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-28
Updated: 2016-04-28
Packaged: 2018-06-05 00:23:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6682015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gracemurphy/pseuds/gracemurphy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The relief that had filled Sam the moment he heard the words vibrate through his cell was long gone. That was hours and four states ago. In its place was just that horrid weariness that only extended amounts of time on the road could create. He just felt tired and grungy.</p><p>All of it didn’t matter though, what did was that he’s finally got Dean. After months of relentless, tiring searching his brother was now only metres away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Caught

**Author's Note:**

> This is unbeta’d, if you spot any mistakes feel free to let me know. Enjoy.
> 
> Read on my [LJ](http://gracemurphy.livejournal.com/1663.html)

The relief that had filled Sam the moment he heard the words vibrate through his cell was long gone. That was hours and four states ago. In its place was just that horrid weariness that only extended amounts of time on the road could create. He just felt tired and grungy.

All of it didn’t matter though, what did was that he’s finally got Dean. After months of relentless, tiring searching, his brother was now only metres away. 

Sam would have preferred that it was him that had succeed in capturing Dean, the knowledge of what other hunters might do to him instead had kept him awake most nights. He just thanked his lucky stars that it was Jamie and Phil - distant hunting buddies that he had contacted when Dean first disappeared to keep eye out from him.

“Hey Sam,” Phil greeted as he let Sam into the abandoned cabin, “How’re you doing? You look like shit.”

“Yeah, thanks. I’m doing better now.”

He could only imagine what he really looked like. The grittiness of the road aside, Cole had roughed him up a bit the other day, the bruises and cuts still marking his face. All of that combined with the dark circles under his eyes probably made him appear to be nothing short of death warmed over.

“Sam! You’re a sight for sore eyes. Good to see ya,” cheerfully said Jamie from where he stood stirring something over the ancient stove top. “You arrived just in time too, dinner’s just about done.”

Dinner definitely wasn’t the most important thing on Sam’s mind right now. Sure, he hasn’t eaten in the past thirty-six hours and his stomach perked up at the mention of food, but Dean came first. Glancing around the small cabin, he didn’t see any sign of his brother.

“Your brother’s downstairs in the basement,” commented Phil, eyes watching him closely, “I’ve got to say though, if I thought he was a huge smart-arse years ago, man, being demonic has only made him so much worse.”

“Yeah, Dean’s got a sharp tongue on him when he wants,” added Jamie over his shoulder, back turned to the room.

Sam laughed along with the other hunters. It felt good, he hasn’t so much as cracked a smile in a long time. He was glad to hear that his brother still remotely like himself, all demonic stuff put aside. His greatest fear was that Dean would be completely different, a dark being so far gone that there was not a sliver hope of curing him.

He let himself be guided to the rickety table in the centre of the kitchen, Phil’s strong hand on his back, at the promise of seeing his brother only after eating something. Jamie and Phil might be friends and mean well but Sam didn’t doubt their ability to get physical if he resisted. They did him a big favour by capturing Dean, the least he could do was entertain them by eating the stew.

“Jamie’s special stew, I bet you have never tasted something so delicious Samuel.”

“Old family recipe, and no, I won’t share my secrets,” continued on Jamie, placing down a steaming bowl in front of Sam.

The hunters were like two peas in a pod. They complemented each other well, that’s probably why have lasted so long - they were a good couple years older than Sam, been in the business since before he was born, so by hunters’ standards they’re ancient. Sam wondered if this was what he and Dean looked like to other people, a level of synchronisation that could only result from years spent living in each other’s pockets. 

Shaking his head at their antics, Sam focused all of his dwindling energy on consuming the hot stew. It was amazing, even is it wasn’t, he was not sure about his ability to stop shovelling it in. He didn’t realise how hungry he really was. Maybe he was wrong about it only being thirty-six hours, who knows, he’s running on fumes for the past couple of days.

“Wow, Sammy boy,” Jamie laughed, smiling even wider when Sam shot him a glare for using his pet name, “Don’t savour the taste or anything. When was the last time you ate?”

He didn’t actually know anymore, instead he just shrugged. The bowl was empty, just small smears left on the edges that he desperately tried to spoon off and into his mouth. Phil watched on disapprovingly. 

“Sam, I know lecturing you won’t change anything but you’ve really got to look after yourself. What use will you be to finding and fixing your brother when you pass out from exhaustion?”

“Don’t know, don’t care,” he said sharply, walking the fine line of unkind. “We’ve got him now anyway, so you don’t need to worry about me anymore.”

The conversation died off into an awkward, tense silence soon after. Phil and Jamie went back to eating their share of the stew while Sam, who had finished forever ago, twiddled fingers. He could practically feel is impatience growing on him, a physical restlessness creeping up from his toes until it consumed his whole body. He didn’t want to rush the other hunter’s though, he’s already been rude enough and they really deserved him on his knees singing songs of praise for what they have done for him.

Moments ticked by, the faint ticking of the clock and scraps of spoons against ceramic the only indicator that time was even moving along at all. The quietness got less oppressing, the tension lifting slowly but continued nonetheless. Well, that was until a faint cry of pain echoed up through the floor boards, then all Hell broke loose.

Sam sprung up on his feet, chair tilting dangerously backwards before slamming to the wooden floor. Phil was already halfway across the cabin, gun out with Jamie close behind before Sam could even make a move to guess where the right door was. He rushed in behind him.

The descent down the stairs was slow going. He guessed it was meant to make them more stealthy and ready for attack than if they were to simply launch themselves into the basement but it still grated on his nerves. He just wanted to see Dean and make sure he was okay.

Once Sam finally landed on the hard concrete floor he immediately swept the area, simultaneously looking for danger, escape routes and his brother. He found nothing, not a good nothing, but a literal nothing. There, for one, were no escape routes as the small basement was actually just a dug out, window-less hole in the ground. Dean, and therefore possible danger, however, was also missing. 

“What the-?” Phil commented dumbly, bewilderedly gazing at the still intact devil’s trap. “How did he get out?”

All three men stared in amazement. Sam wasn’t all that shocked though. If anyone was going to be more powerful than the average demon, it was going to be his brother. He was also comforted by the fact that his brother couldn’t have gotten too far. He hadn’t come upstairs and there was nowhere else for him to go down here. Dean had to be somewhere close.

They split up, all heading to different little nooks and crannies that Dean could have possible ventured into. The area was only small but it was cluttered, bookshelves full of everything weird and wonderful and stacks of junk that looked like it had last been touched a century ago.

Sam dropped another heavy box back into the pile. He had thought that maybe Dean might’ve wiggled his way in behind to hide and wait until he could flee. It was too obvious though, his brother would have known that Sam knew that’s where he would go. 

Frustrated, he turned to make his way further to the right to begin his search again. Shuffling a heavy chest out of the way Sam almost missed it. He was making too much noise. Freezing, he listened again.

A faint whimper reached his ears clear this time, more definite. Following the sound, he rushed across the basement and under the stairs. It was darker here, more cramped where the pipes tangled together to create a low ceiling. Crawling further along, Sam reached the wall and what he saw twisted his gut so painfully he thought he was going to throw up.

“Guys!”

Dean sat limply against the wall, pinned to the spot with his legs splayed out in front. He looked a lot worse for wear, longer-than-usual hair messed up and sticking out in all directions while sweat beaded along his hairline. There, from the meaty part of Dean’s left shoulder, a jagged metal pipe protruded, dripping red sticky blood.

It was gruesome, like a scene out of a horror movie. Blood lazily trickled down the front of his brother and Sam could see torn flesh and muscle peeking out of the wound. All of the red only made Dean appear more pale than he already was - Sam could count his individual freckles from where he was crunched.

“He’s over here!”

Phil or Jamie, Sam not sure which and not caring enough to rip his eyes away from the sight of his brother to double checked, gasped in shock beside him. The tight space was now fully packed, the stench of blood only intensifying along with the limited oxygen supply.

“Oh my God. How did he?“ breath out Jamie in twisted amazement.

“Never mind that. We need to get him off of that, now.”

“How?” Sam asked, turning to look at Phil. He had no clue how they could extract Dean in such a tight space, let alone how to do it without causing further harm. 

“We’ll just yank him off.”

“What? No-“ started Sam. No way was that happening, it was a fool’s proof way to killing his brother. Dean would bleed out on the spot the moment the pole was gone.

“Yeah,” cut in Jamie, nodding his approval at Phil. He looked over at his partner like he had just revealed the secret of the universe, completely ignoring Sam’s protest. “He’s a demon, he’ll will heal the moment he’s free.”

Sam had a lightbulb moment then - it all clicked into place. He knew he should have thought about that before now, it was like the basics of demon hunting one-o’one. Who could blame him though? It was common knowledge that the Winchesters didn’t exactly think rationally or logically when the other was hurt or worse.

“Yeah and then he’ll snapped all of our necks,” Phil added on, grimly gazing at Dean.

“What? No he won’t. Okay, maybe he will,” Sam agreed reluctantly. He knows that Dean would never hurt him intentionally but this thing in front of him wasn’t all Dean. It was a creature that is partially his brother and it may or may not have inherited the ‘care for sammy’ trait. It wasn’t a risk he was willing to take. “I’ve got special cuffs that will hold him for a while. Holy water will help too.”

Blueprints agreed on easy enough, the plan itself was a little harder to coordinate. Sam gathered his brother’s hands in one of his large ones while he fished out the handcuffs with the other and snapped them on. Dean glared angrily up at him, sneering, but otherwise couldn’t do much else in his incapacitated position. There wasn’t enough space for all three men to grab on and haul Dean off the pipe though, so it was left up to Sam.

He gripped his brother’s shoulders and pulled harshly, the pipe making a sickening squelching noise as it was pulled back through flesh. Sam froze halfway when Dean let out a shrill cry of pain. He couldn’t do this, it was just hurting his brother more.

“Sam!” Jamie snapped, obviously sensing his hesitation, “Just do it fast, like a bandaid. It’s got to come out one way or another.”

Trying again, he tightened his fingers on his brother and pulled, ripping the pipe the rest of the way out. Dean cried out again, noise high and tight in pain. They fell into a heap when the resistance suddenly gave way and Sam savoured the moment. He hasn’t been able to hold his brother in so long. It didn’t last long though, Dean was going to be fully charged up at any moment.

By the time Sam pulled Dean out from under the stairs, the gaping wound was already beginning to close up. It seemed to be keeping the demon pretty docile so Sam splashed some holy water on it to slow the process down. He wanted Dean in the car and tied down before he could properly fight back and escape. He will not let his brother get away again after all of this.

“Quick get him to the car.”

Dean was strong, stronger than usual, and put up a good fight. He was still too uncoordinated though and between Sam, Phil and Jamie they managed to haul him up the stairs and out to the car. Just in time too, the holy water’s effect had worn off and the moment Sam clicked another set of handcuffs around the arm rest to secure his brother, Dean was all but fully healed.

Sam slammed the door shut behind him, turning to gaze over at the two hunters watching from the porch. He made his way over, a relieved smile on his face. He’s now another step closer to getting his Dean back.

“Well, we would ask you to stay the night but I know you won’t accept,” Phil said, offering Sam his hand to shake, “We’ll see you around.”

“Be safe Sam.”

“You too guys, I’ll keep in touch, let you know how it goes,” he promised. Sam gave them one final smile and wave of farewell before turning and grimly making his way to the driver’s seat.

That was just the easy part, he knew that, he wasn’t stupid. Dean sat in the back, glaring at him from his bound position, threatening every kind of painful death possible. It was going to be an uphill battle from here but there was no way in Hell that he was going to give up until he got Dean back.


End file.
